THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


y  - 

t 


OL^C^T 


• 


THE      •:•      •:•      * 

GREEN  LEAF 

AND 

THE  GRAY 

*     POEMS.     * 


BY  .... 

J.  P.  IRVINE 


ENTERED  ACCORDING  TO  ACT  OF  CONGRESS,  IN  THE 

OFFICE  OF  LIBRARIAN  OF  CONGRESS  AT 

WASHINGTON.  D.  C.,  A.  D.  1891. 

BY 

J.  P.  IRVINE. 
KIRKWOOD,  ILLS. 


MANUFACTURED  BY  W.  B.  CONKEY  CO.,  CHICAGO. 


PS 
So 


TO 

HENRY    W.   ALLEN 

OF   SAN    FRANCISCO,  CAL., 

THE    BEST   OF    FRIENDS   AND    COMPANIONS, 
I    DEDICATE   THIS   VOLUME. 


764@5b 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I — PRELUDE 9 

II — AT  THE  PASTURE  BARS 16 

III — A  SHINING  ONE 19 

IV — THE  BELLS  OF  KIRKWOOD 23 

V — FEVER 25 

VI — THE  LIGHTNING  EXPRESS 27 

VII— Two  KIDS 3O 

VIII— REST 34 

IX — THANKSGIVING..... 36 

X — MY  LITTLE  GIRL  UNDER  THE  SNOW 38 

XI — THE  JUDGMENT  MORNING 41 

XII — THE  MAYFLOWER,  DECEMBER  11,  1620.   48 

XIII — MY  Two  WHITE  DOVES 5O 

XIV — FOR  THE  BACK  OF  A  PHOTOGRAPH 52 

XV— Two  TOWNS 53 

XVI — A  PSALM  OF  TRUST 56 

XVII — MYRRH  AND  FRANKINCENSE 58 

XVIII— AT  NEW  YEAR'S  DAWN...  ..  67 


Contents. 


IN  THE   COUNTRY. 


PAOB 

I — SUMMER  DROUGHT 71 

II — A  JUNE  MORNING 77 

III — BEFORE  THE  RAIN 79 

IV— A  SULTRY  NIGHT 81 

V — INDIAN  SUMMER 83 

VI — A  WINTER  MORNING 87 

VII — AN  APRIL  MORNING 89 

VIII — AN  AUGUST  AFTERNOON  (On  the  Farm)...   92 

IX — BEFORE  HARVEST 95 

X — NOVEMBER  (Quatrains) 97 


Contents.  vii 


WAR   ECHOES. 

PAGE 

I — THE  DRUMS 1O9 

II — MAY  THIRTIETH 113 

III— THE  HALT 12O 

IV — FRANKLIN,  TENN.,  NOVEMBER  3O,  1864 122 

V — THE  FOND  HEART'S  BENEDICTION 129 


viii  Contents. 


ON  OCCASION. 


PAGE 

I — A  GOLDEN  WEDDING 135 

II — AN  EASY  CHAIR 144 

III— Jo  LEEPER 149 

IV— FROM  THE  ALBUM  OF  Miss  INA  ALLEN 151 

V — FROM  THE  ALBUM  OF  LIBBIE  HAMSHIRE...153 

VI— JOSIE 155 

VII — TOSSINGS 157 


PRELUDE, 
i. 

IN  the  spring  when  leaves  are  green, 
*     And  the  bud  unfolds  and  blushes, 
And  I  from  ray  window  lean 
Out  into  the  blue  serene, 
Ivist'ning  to  a  pair  of  thrushes, 
Pouring  forth  their  witching  strains, 
Sweet  as  tingling  silver  chains 
At  the  breaking  of  the  morning,— 
I  forget  the  restless  night ; 
And,  half  tipsy  with  delight, 
I/inger  long  and  turn  again, 
Wistful,  just  to  catch  a  note, 


10  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

But  I  lack  the  sylvan  tongue, 
Far  too  fine  for  words,  and  hung 
Tuneful  in  a  golden  throat: — 
Still,  it  is  not  all  in  vain — 
All  for  naught  my  bosom  swells  ; 
And  within  me  all  the  bells 
Of  rapture  take  the  time  and  swing, 
Till  I  cannot  choose  but  sing  ; 
And  that  sweeter  strains,  I  know, 
Tinkling  through  my  numbers  run, 
And  from  sun-lit  zephyrs  spun 
Brighter  threads  of  color  glow: — 
And,  I  may  have  caught,  perchance, 
From  the  rhythm  of  the  dance 
Of  airy  dapples  on  the  grass 
A  lighter  measure  ;  still,  the  voice 
Is  not  the  thrushes' — not,  alas, 


Prelude.  11 

The  hymn  that  makes  the  vale  rejoice  ; 
But,  when  leaves  are  green  in  spring, 
And  delight  is  on  the  wing, 
Somehow,  one  is  prone  to  sing. 

Be  it  so,  will  any  hear — 
Any  pause  upon  their  way, 
Turning  an  arrested  ear  ? 
Is  there  aught  of  love  and  cheer 
In  the  green  leaf  of  my  lay  ? 
If  so,  in  the  singer's  throng 
There  will  still  be  room  for  me; 
Rhyme  has  run  its  way  too  long, 
Fond  hearts  never  tire  of  song 
Nor  the  world  of  poesy. 


12  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

II. 

In  the  fall  when  leaves  are  gray, 
Winds  are  lain,  and  vales  and  hollows 
Flanked  with  hills  in  blue  array, 
Seem  to  drift  in  dreams  away, 
And  the  barns  are  mute  from  s wallows, - 
Distance  mellows,  and  you  hear 
Through  the  drowsy  atmosphere, 
Sounds  as  soft  as  murmurs  are — 
As  of  waters  falling  far 
In  the  lonely  mountain  glen, 
And  at  times,  the  pheasant's  drum 
Rolling  muffled,  once,  and  then 
All  the  woods  around  are  dumb. 
Howe'er,  when  the  sun  is  low, 
And  the  shadows  lengthen  tall 
In  the  evening  of  the  year, 


Prelude.  13 

And  the  gray  leaves  turning  sere 
From  the  boughs  begin  to  fall; — 
Steals  a  voice  unto  my  ear, 
Oft  repeating  one  low  strain, 
Subtly  plaintive  ;  and  although, 
Just  a  voice  and  nothing  more — 
Just  a  still  and  small  refrain, 
Without  words,  that  one  may  hear 
All  the  day  long  in  the  rain, — 
Somehow,  it  becomes  the  key 
That  awakens  memory, 
Till  she  joins  and  sings  of  yore — 
Sings  so  of  the  long  ago— 
Chords  responding  heart  to  heart, 
Till  my  themes  are  but  a  part 
And  an  echo  ;   and  if  tears 
'Twixt  my  lines  have  left  a  trace, 


14  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Eyes  were  wet  in  other  years 
For  a  loved  one's  absent  face  ; 
For  the  playthings  left  in  place 
Of  a  darling  gone  its  way — 
Flow' ret  of  a  summer's  day; 
For  a  sash  hung  in  the  hall — 
Dim  with  dust  of  twenty  years — 
Yet  the  rent  made  by  the  ball 
Through  the  darker  stain  appears. 
Thus  it  is,  whate'er  is  mine, 
Oh,  my  friend,  I  know  is  thine; 
Fate  is  common,  though  unseen, 
Walk  we  all  the  self-same  way  ; 
In  the  spring  the  leaves  are  green, 
In  the  fall  they're  just  as  gray. 


Prelude.  16 

Yet,  will  any  cease  their  quest,   . 
Turn  and  listen  from  their  road  ? 
As  the  dove  a  coveret  nest, 
In  some  warmly  welcome  breast, 
Will  my  gray  leaf  find  abode  ? 
If  so,  in  the  singers'  throng 
There  will  still  be  room  for  me  ; 
Rhyme  has  run  its  way  too  long, 
Fond  hearts  never  tire  of  song, 
Nor  the  world  of  poesy. 


16  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

AT  THE  PASTURE  BARS. 

RETURNING  lonely  from  the  field, 
She  met  me  at  the  pasture  bars  ; 
The  moon  was  like  a  golden  shield, 
The  firmament  was  lit  with  stars. 

As  morning  dawn  her  face  was  mild, 
As  evening,  so  her  limped  eyes  • 

God  never  gave  a  sweeter  child 
For  weary  man  to  idolize. 

So  winsome  seemed  her  artless  mirth, 
Her  soft  caress  and  ardent  kiss; 

I  thought  of  all  delights  of  earth 
The  angels  sure  will  covet  this. 


At  the  Pasture  Bars.  17 

I  know  they  mean  to  do  no  ill, 
But  whom  they  love  they  lure  away  ; 

Good  angels,  love  her  as  ye  will. 

But  leave  her  with  me  while  I  stay. — 

Just  as  she  is,  for  I  would  set 

The  hand  of  time  behind  an  hour, 

If  that  would  stay  a  little  yet 
The  bud  from  blowing  to  the  flower. 

But  when  at  length  we  homeward  went, 
The  fragrant  azure  shone  so  clear, 

The  great  familiar  firmament, 

I  thought,  had  never  seemed  so  near. 

Se  near,  the  moon  above  the  trees 
An  airy  globe  of  silver  swung  ; 

And  in  the  dewy  tops  of  these 

The  stars  in  mellow  clusters  hung. 


18  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

So  near,  that  I  could  scarce  forego 

The  thought  that  one  who  longing  waits, 
Might  hear  them  singing  sweet  and  low, 
Of  love  beyond  the  golden  gates. 


A  Shining  One.  19 


A  SHINING  ONE. 


STAY,  oh  stay,  sweet  dove  of  heaven, 
Yet  a  little,  let  me  be 
At  thy  feet  a  yearning  suppliant, 

I<et  me  kneel  and  question  thee: 
For  I  know  thou  art  enraptured 

By  the  glory  of  thine  eyes, 
And  the  whiteness  of  thy  raiment, 
Thou  art  here  from  Paradise. 

Hast  thou  seen  the  daintiest  angel 
In  all  heaven  ?     Is  she  fair? 

Has  she  grown  in  radiant  beauty, 
Are  her  foot-falls  light  as  air  ? 


20  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Did  she  smiling  run  to  meet  thee, 
Were  her  kisses  sweet  and  bland  ? 

Through  the  open  gates  of  jasper 
Did  she  lead  thee  by  the  hand  ? 

Has  the  flash  of  time  between  us 

Quickened  darkness  ?  does  she  know 
Of  the  cruel  grief  that  smote  us 

When  our  hope  was  changed  to  woe  ? 
Is  it  true  that  the  Immortal 

Is  unshadowed  by  the  Past, 
That  the  burthen  of  remembrance 

At  the  door  of  Death  is  cast  ? 

There  was  one  of  twenty  summers — 
More  than  twenty  years  ago — 

In  the  vanguard  of  the  battle, 
Fell  with  face  unto  the  foe  ; 


A  Shining  One.  21 

He  was  truthful,  he  was  tuneful, 
And  he  wore  the  blush  of  spring  ; 

In  his  sanctified  perfection 

I  should  love  to  hear  him  sing. 

Is  the  rapture  born  of  heaven 

So  complete,  there's  naught  remains 
Of  the  earth-life's  bitter  sweetness, 

Of  its  pleasures  or  its  pains  ? 
Are  you  touched  with  our  emotions  ? 

Are  the  dear  old  voices  dumb  ? 
Do  you  ever  long  to  meet  us  ? 

Would  you  love  to  have  us  come  ? 

Draw  near  me  now,  make  answer; 

Let  me  touch  thee,  feel  thy  breath  ; 
Reach  thy  hand  and  I  will  clasp  it 

Half  across  the  dark  of  death: 


22  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Just  a  moment,  and  no  longer, 
Would  I  lure  thee,  if  I  could, 

Though  we  grieved  so  when  you  left  us 
And  put  on  your  angel-hood. 

'Tis  enough  that  I  have  seen  thee, 

Gentle  spirit,  heavenly  dove  ; 
And  I  know  thy  silent  presence 

Is  to  tell  me  of  thy  love: 
Yet  I  would  not  have  thee  linger; 

Stay  no  longer,  rise  and  go, 
L,est  a  touch  of  earth  should  tarnish 

Thy  unsullied  wings  of  snow. 


The  Bells  of  Kirkwood.  28 

THE  BELLS  OF  KIRKWOOD. 

TT  is  eve,  and  the  coming  and  going 
*     Of  cares,  since  the  gray  of  the  morn 
Are  at  rest,  and  a  harmony  flowing 
From  the  village  comes  over  the  corn  ; 

As  a  song  o'er  the  sea  when  the  breakers 
Are  acalm  from  their  turbulent  swells, 

Soft  winged  o'er  the  manifold  acres 
Flows  the  sound  of  the  beautiful  bells. 

And  behold,  as  I  list,  my  behavior 
Is  softened,  as  come  unto  me 

Sweet  thoughts  of  an  infinite  Savior, 
On  eternity's  deep  Galilee. — 


24  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Of  the  evening  my  lifetime  is  bringing, 
With  a  calm  that  shall  woo  and  enfold 

As  a  garment  of  peace,  of  the  ringing 
Of  bells  in  the  city  of  gold. 


Fever.  25 


FEVER. 

OTAY  near  me,  sweetheart,  clasp, caress 
^  My  hand  thy  soft  white  palms  between, 

Stay  all  the  night,  that  I  may  lean 
On  thee  my  whole  weight's  weariness. 


Fold,  fold  me  close  unto  thy  breast, 
I  am  so  tired;  sing  sweet  and  low 
Your  love-songs  of  the  long-ago; 

O  sing  away  the  night's  unrest. 

Sing  soft,  and  ope  the  window  full 
On  yon  great  woodland,  white  and  still, 
In  pallid  moonlight  on  the  hill,— 

It  is  so  deep  and  dim  and  cool. 


26  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

But  God  is  good,  my  dear,  and  when, 
Across  the  dewy  fields  of  corn 
Shall  blow  the  healings  of  the  morn, 

I  shall  not  be  so  weary  then. 


The  Lightning  Express.  27 

THE  LIGHTNING  EXPRESS. 

I. 

OWIFT    as   the   wind's    untramineled 

^-*     speed, 
A  train  of  chariots,  all  a  length 

Of  splendor  rolls  behind  a  steed 
With  loins  of  iron  and  the  strength 

A  legion  horses;  and  as  breaks 

The  noise  of  trampling  hoofs,  and  shakes 
The  solid  earth,  he  thunders  past, 
Outpouring  on  the  riven  blast 

His  notes  of  warning,  shrill  and  loud, 

Through  vapors  rolling  cloud  on  cloud, 
In  purple-bordered  volumes  ;  yea, 
In  storm  and  darkness,  night  and  day, 
Through  mountain  gorge  or  level  way, 


28  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

With  tightening  rein  and  might  unspent, 
And  head  erect  in  scorn  of  space, 
Holds,  neck-and-neck,  with  time  a  race, 

Flame-girt  across  a  continent. 

II. 
Think  not  of  danger,  every  wheel 

Of  all  that  clank  and  roll  below, 
Rang  singing  answers,  steel  for  steel, 

Beneath  the  hammer's  testing  blow: 
And   what,    though   fields    go  swirling 

round, 
And  backward  swims  the  mazy  ground, 

So  swift  the  herds  seem  standing  still — 

As  scared  they  dash  from  hill  to  hill; 
And  though  the  brakes  may  grind  to  fire, 
The  gravel  as  they  grip  the  tire, 


The  Lightning  Express.  29 

And  holding,  strike  a  startling  vein 
Of  tremor  through  the  surging  train, 
The  hand  of  him  who  guides  the  rein, 

Is  all  controlling  and  intent: 

Fear  not,  although  the  race  you  ride 
Is  on  the  whirlwind,  side  by  side 

With  time  across  a  continent. 


30  7  he  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 


TWO   KIDS. 

T  KNOW  of  a  home  in  the  village  near, 
Where  two  little  children  are  treas 
ured  dear. 

A  sweet  little  girl  who  betrays  her  grace 
In  the  delicate  lines  of  a  Raphael  face  ; 

And  a  rogue  of  a  boy,  who  can  barely 

walk 
By  pushing  a  chair,  and  they  say  he  can 

talk. 

Set  square  on  his  feet  and  firm  at  the 

knees, 
He  stands  like  a  sturdy  young  Hercules! 


Two  Kids.  81 

God  grant  that  he  grow  to  manly  estate, 
And  the  path  he  may  climb  be  narrow 
and  straight. 

But  the   girl  is  a  daisy — a  mischiev'us 

lass, 
Who  tosses  me  kisses  whenever  I  pass, — 

Tosses  them  laughing,  and  standing  alert, 
Tempts  me  to  chase  her — the  gay  little 
flirt; 

Catch  a  weasel  asleep — why,  she  flashes 

away 
If  I  move  but  a  hand,  like  a  mirrored 

ray. 

And  wouldn't  I  scamper,  if  I  were  she, 
From  a  great,  big  bearded  fellow  like  me  ! 


82  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray, 

God  grant  that  howe'er  in  that  fullness 

of  time. 
She  bloom  into  womanhood's  beautiful 

prime. 

And  yet,  little  friends,  I  utter  my  prayer 
With  a  fait' ring  regret  for  the  ills   you 
must  bear. 

For  the  loss  of  the  sweetness  of  innocent 

trust, 
For  the  truth  without  guile  and  the  love 

without  lust; 

For  the  laughter  that  ripples  and  runs 

and  is  glad, 
In  exchange  for  the  smile  from  a  heart 

that  is  sad. 


Two  Kids.  33 

But  pardon,  sweet  children,  I  fear  I  do 

wrong, 
For  the  sigh  that  I  drop  with  the  notes 

of  my  song. 

Play  on  and  laugh  loud,  we  rejoice  in 

the  sound; 
You're  the  gayest  young  kids  in  the  neigh 

borhood  round. 


0 


34  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 


r^v 
*—  ' 


REST. 
broods  the  night  on  land  and 


sea, 

As  bent  and  lame  I  homeward  creep, 
And  fondly  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
Through  all  the  night-of-years  to  be. 

It  is  the  sleep  that  lasts  for  aye, 

The  balm  that  heals  the  hurts  of  all: 
My  heavy  eye-lids  droop  and  fall, 

And  all  my  being  swoons  away. 

O  friend,  come  grant  me  one  request, 
Make  wide  the  confines  of  my  tomb, 
I  am  so  weary,  give  me  room 

To  lie  full  length  in  blissful  rest.  — 


Rest  3 

Full  length,  as  on  a  folded  fleece 
Around  by  curtained  darkness  hung, 
Till  healed  forever  and  made  young 

For  that  new  world  where  all  is  peace. 


36  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

THANKSGIVING. 
I. 

TIE  is  of  all  the  gracious  Z,ord, 

*•  •*•     Before  His  throne  we  bend  the  knee 

And  lift  our  voice  in  grand  accord, 

As  swells  an  anthem  of  the  sea: 
We  praise  Him  for  His  mercies  done, 

The  crystal  fountain  from  the  springs, 
The  life  reviving,  shining  sun, 

The  winds  with  healing  on  their  wings. 

II. 

Our  cup  is  full:  a  thousand  scents 
From  hampered  garners  fill  the  land; 

countless  towns  of  golden  tents 
The  stacks  of  wheat  in  clusters  stand; 


Thanksgiving.  37 

The  meadows  glow  with  aftermath, 
In  heaps  the  gathered  apples  shine, 

And  lowing  .homeward  down  the  path 
With  burdened  udders  file  the  kine. 

III. 

Thus  unto  Him,  our  gracious  king, 

With  banners  of  our  faith  unfurled, 
Ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  sing 

The  fullness  of  a  gladdened  world; 
For  Him  our  souls  in  fervor  burn, 

Our  life,  our  love  and  all  are  His, 
At  best,  alas,  a  poor  return, 

So  boundless  His  abundance  is. 


88  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

MY  LITTLE  GIRL  UNDER  THE  SNOW. 

T   AM  standing  alone  by  the  window 

Looking  out  on  the  infinite  gray, 
As  it  deepens  and  darkens  to  silence 

At  the  close  of  a  desolate  day: 
There's  a  lull  in  the  sleeting  and  raining, 

And  now  in  the  stillness  I  know  — 
As   the  flakes  feather  aimlessly    down 
ward — 
That  all  the  night  long  it  will  snow. 

And  lo,  as  it  falls  in  the  valley, 

In  the  deep,  still  woods  and  the  sea, 

There's  a  fall,  as  of  flakes,  in  the  dark 
ness 
Of  the  life  that  God  gave  unto  me; 


My  Little  Girl  Under  the  Snow.        39 

For  the  clouds  have  been  heavy  and  rainy, 
But  now  there's  a  lull,  and  I  know 

That  my  sorrow  is  soft'ning  to  longing 
For  my  little  girl  under  the  snow.— 

This  night,  for  my  poor  little  darling, 

In  her  little  grave  under  the  leaves, 
Only  dressed  in  a  shroud  of  Swiss-muslin, 

Cut  low  at  the  neck  and  the  sleeves; 
For  she  died  when  the  manifold  lilies 

Were  a-bloom  in  the  garden  below, 
But  the  meek  little  face  in  the  coffin 

Was  as  mute  and  as  pure  as  the  snow. 

And  now,  I  remember,  while  thinking, 
How  a  year  ago  —  this  very  night, 

That  she  and  I,  here  by  the  window, 
Stood  watching  the  snow-birds  alight; 


40  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

And  coaxingly  calling  she  fed  them 
With  little  white  pellets  of  dough, 

But  alas,  did  I  think  that  my  birdie 
Would  sleep  to-night  under  the  snow. 

But  why  should  I  weary  with  longing, 

When  to  cease,  if  for  e'en  but  a  day 
Or  a  night,  would  be  proof  of  forgetting; 

Ah,  sorrow,  stay  with  me,  I  pray; 
Stay  with  me,  that  I  may  be  humble 

And  patient  in  bearing  the  loss 
Of  the  dear  little  idol  that  keeps  me, 

So  near  to  the  foot  of  the  cross. 


The  Judgment  Morning.  41 

THE  JUDGMENT  MORNING. 
I. 

\\J HO  may  reckon  of  the  coming 

'   *       Of  the  solemn  Judgment  Day, 
When  the  sea  shall  roll  no  longer 

And  the  earth  shall  melt  away? 
But  we  know  the  spinning  planets 

Through  their  wonted  measures  run, 
Just  as  on  the  natal  morning 

When  elanced  around  the  sun ; 
And  when  we  have  been  forgotten 

And  the  things  we  know  are  gone, 
Through  a  hundred  future  ages 

They  will  still  roll  on  and  on; 


42  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Till  at  last  shall  come  an  evening — 

Just  as  other  evenings  come — 
But  a  spell  of  deeper  silence 

Shall  arrest  the  busy  hum ; 
And  the  sun,  before  his  setting, 

Pause  and  turn  a  ling' ring  view, 
Fondly  backward,  as  if  bidding 

Earth  and  time  a  last  adieu; 
And  at  midnight  all  the  army, 

Of  the  stars  in  bright  array, 
With  the  moon  adown  the  heavens, 

Will  forever  go  their  way; 
And  I  fancy  all  the  living 

Will  in  heavy  sleep  be  lain 
And  a  hush  of  a,wful  stillness 

Till  the  coming  dawn  shall  reign. 


The  Judgment  Morning.  43 

II. 

'Twill  be  startling,  in  a  moment, 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 
Swift  and  loud  a  herald-trumpet  sound 

Shall  break  athwart  the  sky, 
And  a  host  of  shouting  angels 

Shall  on  gleaming  wings  descend, 
White  and  vivid  as  the  lightnings, 

When  in  wrath  they  strike  and  rend. 
'Twill  be  such  a  sound  as  never 

Echoed  since  creation's  birth, 
'Twill  reverberate  throughout  the  length 

And  breadth  and  height  of  earth, 
And  shall  quicken  and  awaken 

All  the  dead  that  lie  beneath, 
Who  shall  rise,  as  He  of  old  arose 

Triumphant  over  Death. 


44  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Oh,  my  fellow  men — my  brothers, 

Count  the  sands  upon  the  main, 
Count  the  waves  that  break  between  them, 

Tell  the  drops  of  summer  rain  — 
But  a  host  no  man  can  number, 

Far  and  wide  on  every  hand, 
With  the  grave's  dust  shaken  from  them 

Shall  the  risen  myriads  stand. 
There  they'll  be  in  countless  numbers 

From  the  mighty  centuries  past 
Though  their  dust  a  thousand  summers 

May  have  winnowed  to  the  blast: 
They  shall  rise  from  arid  deserts, 

From  the  everglades  and  woods, 
From  prairies  vast  and  lonely 

And  from  mountain  solitudes: 


The  Judgment  Morning.  45 

There  will  be  no  sea  so  fathomless, 
Nor  wide  nor  tempest  toss'd 

But  shall  cease  its  restless  roaring 
And  give  up  the  loved  and  lost. 

III. 

Meetings,  aye,  I  know  there  will  be, 

Though  mayhap  you  have  lain  alone 
In  the  potter's  field  a  stranger, 

You  will  stand  amid  your  own; 
How  within  his  arms  a  daughter 

Shall  a  yearning  father  press, 
How  a  mother  in  her  rapture 

Will  a  tender  child  caress. 
It  may  be  the  blue-eyed  darling 

Who  was  lost  and  never  found, 


46  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

It  may  be  the  little  truant 

Who  went  swimming  and  was  drowned; 
And  of  mine,  a  precious  idol 

Who,  when  taken,  broke  my  heart, 
Yet  I  know  that  I  shall  meet  her 

Though  a  thousand  miles  apart; 
It  must  just  be  as  I  left  her 

In  her  old-time  childish  grace, 
Ere  the  heavenly  radiance  touch  her 

I  must  look  into  her  face: 
Yes,  it  must  just  be  as  we  left  them  — 

Ere  the  death- damp  on  them  lay  — 
For  the  grave's  sweet  Balm  of  Gilead 

Shall  have  healed  their  hurts  away: 
Yes,  it  must  be  that  we  shall  greet  them  — 

As  of  yore  in  love  again  — 


The  Judgment  Morning.  47 

Else  wise,  heav'n  would  not  be  heaven 

And  the  hopes  of  earth  be  vain: 
That  the  old  love  in  its  fondness 

Still  will  linger,  is  not  strange; 
It  may  be  the  new  is  stronger, 

But  the  old  will  never  change, 
Till  transfigured  with  the  dawning 

Of  the  new,  we  shall  arise 
To  the  home  of  many  mansions 

In  the  mount  of  Paradise. 


48  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

THE  MAYFLOWER. 

DEC.  ii,  1620. 

T  vSKB  her  on  yon  boundless  world  — 

Gray- winged  and  tempest  tossed, 
The  foam-plumed  breakers  beating  in 

And  thund'ring  on  the  coast; 
The  Indian  yells,  the  eagle  screams 

And  breaks  the  wild  repose, 
A  light  is  on  the  wilderness, 

'Twill  blossom  like  a  rose  ! 

An  hardy  handful  land  ashore  — 
An  hundred,  age  and  youth  — 

A  band  of  Christian  Alchemists 
To  test  the  gold  of  truth;  - 


The  Mayflower.  49 

The  vanguard  of  a  mighty  host 
The  coming  years  should  bring, 

Who  should  kneel  before  no  master 
Save  to  God,  their  sovereign  King! 


50  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

MY  TWO  WHITE  DOVES. 

OO  ME  WHERE  between  the  great  ex- 
^         tremes 

Of  mortal  life,  to-day  I  stand, 
And  muse  and  wonder  —  as  in  dreams  — 

A  white  dove  clinging  to  my  hand, — 

A  wee  white  dove  with  azure  eyes, 
Yet  still,  I  wonder  through  my  tears, 

How  far  it  is  to  Paradise,  - 
I  know  the  past  is  forty  years. 

For  lo,  in  Paradise  have  I 

Another  dainty  dove  like  this, 

Who  some  day  in  the  by-and-by 
Will  greet  me  with  a  seraph's  kiss. 


My  Two  White  Doves.  51 

How  far  the  great  Beyond  may  be, 
I  know  not,  there's  no  hint  nor  sign; 

Will  I  first  'tempt  it,  or  will  she, 

This  wee  white,  nestling  dove  of  mine  ? 

If  first  for  me  the  still,  small  voice 
Of  death  should  call,  I'll  humbly  go; 

Between  my  doves  I  make  no  choice 
For  Oh,  my  God,  I  love  them  so! 

But  fleet  the  years  that  roll  on  earth, 
A  little  while  and  she  will  come, 

And  she  who  gave  my  white  doves  birth, 
Till  all  the  loved  are  safe  at  home. 


62  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 


FOR  THE  BACK  OF  A  PHOTOGRAPH. 

r  j^HE  brush  may  err  but  not  the  art 
-*       That   paints  with  sunbeams;  here 

you  trace 

The  very  thoughts  upon  your  face, 
So  clearly  cut  in  every  part 

And  well  defined  in  every  grace 
The  subtlest  feature,  unconcealed, 
Your  living  presence  stands  revealed. 


Two  Towns.  53 

TWO  TOWNS. 

]\  /I  Y  cottage  crowns  a  knoll  of  land, 
*     *     And  peering  upward  through  the 

green 

Of  maple  boughs  —  on  either  hand 
Its  dormer-windows  may  be  seen. 

And  there  it  is  when  looking  down, 
The  season  long  in  sun  or  rain, 

You  see  a  thrifty  neighbor  town 
At  either  ending  of  the  lane.— 

A  narrow  lane  and  travel  worn, 

From  lagging  wheels  and  feet  that  tread 

A- weary  with  the  burdens  borne 
Between  the  living  and  the  dead. 


54  The  Green,  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Though  scarce  a  furlong  either  way, 
In  one  I  hear  the  robins  sing, 

And  in  the  other  all  the  day 

The  smitten  anvil's  measured  ring,  — 

All  day  I  hear  the  champ  of  drills, 
The  roll  of  trains  and  engine-booms; 

The  low,  incessant  grind  of  mills, 
The  muffled  pounding  of  the  looms. 

Meet  whom  ye  will, there's  none  but  seems 
Pursuing  some  elusive  quest,  — 

Two  fretful,  counter-passing  streams 
That  never  know  a  moment's  rest. 

The  streets  may  climb  the  rugged  hill, 
Or  straggle  outward  to  the  plain, 


Two  Towns.  65 

But  wind  and  wind  the  way  they  will 
They  lead  at  last  unto  the  lane,  — 

The  narrow  way  we  all  must  pass  — 
How  soon  or  late  there's  none   may 
know, 

Our  quiet  homes  beneath  the  grass 
Are  always  ready  when  we  go. 


56  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

A  PSALM  OF  TRUST. 

near  me  when  I  die  and  lean, 
Your  head  above  my  bosom  low, 
Remembering  dear,  the  long  ago 
And  all  the  golden  years  between. 

For  arm  and  arm  through  cloud  and  sun, 
As  lovers  long,  we  hither  came,  — 
In  life  and  death  we  are  the  same, 

And  humbly  pray  His  will  be  done. 

For  well  we  know  his  mercies  are 
As  sweet  and  all-abundant  now, 
As  when  at  first  we  made  the  vow 

To  trust  Him  truly,  near  or  far. 


A  Psalm  of  Trust.  67 

Nor  would  we  change  our  destiny, 
Nay,  even  though  we  had  the  power: 
Our  parting  will  be  scarce  an  hour 

Compared  with  all  the  years  to  be — 

But  scarce  an  hour,  then  why  forlorn, 
'Twill  be  as  though  my  way  I  took 
At  night  across  a  silent  brook, 

And  you  came  over  in  the  morn. 


68  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Cray. 

MYRRH  AND  FRANKINCENSE. 

DEC.  25. 

T^HERE'S  morn  in  the  land  when, 

from  lake  unto  lake, 

And   from   ocean   to   ocean,   the  people 
awake 

To  the  pealing  of  bells,  and  the  hills  all 
ashake 

From  the  shots  of  great  cannon:     "Tis 

Columbia's  voice 
To   come   forth   and   lift   banners,    beat 

drums  and  rejoice 
In  a  heritage  dear  to  the  sons  of  the  free. 

And  again,  there's  a  day  when,  on 
suppliant  knee 


Myrrh  and  Frankincense  59 

Bowing  low,  we  give  thanks,  and  arising, 

outpour 
Sweet  hymns  and  grand  anthems  for  a 

bountiful  store 
Of  the  cluster  and  sheaf,  for  the  herds  on 

the  plain, 
For  the  dews  and  the  balms,  and  the  sun 

and  the  rain. 

But  the  day  when  all  peoples  in  all 

of  earth's  climes 
In  glad  exultation  sing  psalms  and  ring 

chimes, 
Wreathe  their  homes  in  green  holly,  give 

gifts  and  make  mirth, 
Is  the  glorified  one  of  our  Lord's  lowly 

birth,— 


60  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

The  day  that  brought  peace  and  good  will 
unto  earth, — 

Brought  peace  and  glad  tidings  song- 
winged,  and  a  light 

To  relume  the  deep  darkness  of  Error's 
long  night, — 

Brought  healings  for  anguish,  and  a 
balm  for  all  woes, 

From  a  fountain  so  brimm'd  with  sweet 
love  it  o'erflows 

In  a  hundred  full  streams. 

Oh,  then  let  us  pray, 
Giving  thanks,  let  us  sing,  let  us  dance, 

blessed  day! 
L,et  us  meet  and  clasp  hands  and  rejoice 

that  we  live, 


Myrrh  and  Frankincense.  61 

And  if  aught  have  estranged  us,  forget 

and  forgive, 
And  our  gifts,  let  them  come  from  the 

heart's  proffered  store; 
Let  us  go  through  the  land  and  unlatch 

every  door 
To  the  huts  and  the  hovels  where  dull 

squalor  pines, 
And  where  Want  never  laughs  and  the 

sun  never  shines; 
I^et  us  clime  to  lone  attics,  go  down  to 

low  dives 

And  the  dark  slums  of  death  in  the  tene 
ment  hives, 
So  dark  that  one  needs  light  his  way 

through  the  halls, 


62  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

There  is  slime  on  the  floors  and  mildew 

on  the  walls; 
There  are  women  so  haggard  and  with 

faces  so  gray 
One  fears  to  gaze  on  them,  and  in  pain 

turns  away. 
There  are  mothers  with  infants  that  hang 

uncaressed 
L,ike  limp  and  forgotten  wet  rags  on  the 

breast; 
An  e'en  the  half-grown  are  so  shrunk 

and  so  lean, 
And  with  hands  so  like  claws,  they  look 

old  and  unclean! 

But  enough,  they  are  legion  —  these 
hungry  and  gaunt 


Myrrh  and  Frankincense.  63 

Hapless  wretches  in  tatters  —  these  chil 
dren  of  want 

And  of  vice  and  distress — 'tis  enough, 
let  us  go 

And  relight  with  our  smiles  their  dark 
hour,  and  bestow 

The  white  loaf  and  rich  cluster,  place 
beneath  the  sick  head, 

With  a  touch,  the  soft  pillow,  and  ease 
the  straw  bed; 

Stir  aglow  the  dead  embers,  bar  out  the 
sharp  cold, 

And  enwrap  the  frail  forms  of  the  help 
less  and  old, — 

If  for  e'en  but  a  day,  that  they  may  not 
forget 


64  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

There  are  hearts  that  still  beat  with  warm 
charity  yet, — 

Just  to  ease  but  one  moment  the  chasten 
ing  rod, 

Just  a  taste  of  the  sweets  of  the  goodness 
of  God. 

O,  thus  it  is  well  we're  akin  unto  all, 

And  alert  to  respond  to  distress  at  her  call; 

And  well  we  are  touched  with  the  grace 
that  is  kind, 

For  there  so  many  lame  and  there  so 
many  blind, 

There  are  so  many  waifs,  little-bodied 
and  thin, 

Standing  out  in  the  cold,  looking  wist 
fully  in; 


Myrrh  and  Frankincense.  65 

Aye,  so  many  wee  forms  that  are  naked 

and  chilled, 
So  many  wee  stockings  that  are  hung 

and  unfilled: 
There  are  so  many  wives  waiting  late  in 

dull  homes 
For  a  step  that  is  weak  and   outworn 

when  it  comes: 
And  there  so  many  friendless  and  lone 

in  the  land 
Who  but  want  a  kind  word  or  the  clasp 

of  a  hand. 

O,  it's  easy  to  bind  the  bruis'd  reed, 

and  to  bow, 

Pressing  soft  the  cool  palm  on  the  pain- 
smitten  brow; 


66  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

And  it  costs  but  a  farthing  to  pause  and 

to  feed 
The  poor,  little,  starved  mouths  that  are 

gaping  in  need; 
And  still  less  to  take  hold  an  unsteady 

man's  arm  — 
Though    mayhap   he's    been    drinking, 

'twill  do  you  no  harm, 
So  it's  easy  to  help,  and  withal,  we  are 

told 

That  the  blessings,   rained  down  in  re 
ward,  are  ten-fold; 
And  thus  it  is  well  we  are  touched  with 

a  chord 
Of  the  love  reaching  forth  from  the  heart 

of  our  Lord. 


At  New  Year's  Dawn.  67 

AT  NEW  YEAR'S  DAWN. 

A  T  New  Year's  dawn  a  poet  wove 
•    *•     A  tinkling  rhyme  in  divers  keys: 
Behind  him  lay  the  darkened  hills, 
Beyond  him  rolled  the  purple  seas. 

And  time  is  young  and  time  is  old 
He  made  the  glad  and  sad  refrain, 

Sweet  mingling  each  with  each  as  fall 
The  glinting  sunbeams  and  the  rain. 

And  time  is  young  and  time  is  old, 
And  nimble  feet  aweary  grow, 

As  round  and  round  the  seasons  roll 
The  woodbine  and  the  cypress  blow. 


68  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Aye,  time  is  young  and  time  is  old, 
With  Him  who  marks  our  joys  and  tears, 

A  thousand  years  is  but  a  day, 
A  fleeting  day  a  thousand  years. 


IN  THE  COUNTRY. 


Summer  Drought.  71 

SUMMER  DROUGHT. 

T  \  THEN  winter  came  the  land  was 

lean  and  sere: 
There  fell  no  snow,  and  oft  from  wild 

and  field 
In  famished  tameness  came  the  drooping 

deer, 

And  licked  the  waste  about  the  troughs 
congealed. 

And  though  at  spring  we  plowed  and 

proffered  seed, 

It  lay  ungermed,  a  pillage  for  the  birds: 
And  unto  one  low  dam,  in  urgent  need, 
We  daily  drove  the  suppliant,  lowing 
herds. 


72  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

But  now  the  fields  to  barren  waste  have 

run, 
The  dam  a  pool  of  oozing  greenery 

lies, 
Where  knots  of  gnats  hang  reeling  in 

the  sun 

Till  early  dusk,  when  tilt  the  dragon- 
flies. 

All  night  the  craw-fish  deepens  out  her 

wells, 
As  shows  the  clay  that  freshly  curbs 

them  round; 
And   many  a  random  upheaved  tunnel 

tells 

Where  ran  the  mole  across  the  fallow 
ground. 


Summer  Drought.  73 

But  ah!  the  stone-dumb  dullness  of  the 

dawn, 
When  e'en  the  cocks  too  listless  are  to 

crow, 

And  lies  the  world  as  from  all  life  with 
drawn, 

Unheeding  and  outworn  and  swooning 
low  ! 

There  is  no  dew  on  any  greenness  shed, 
The  hard-baked  earth  is  cracked  across 

the  walks; 
The   very  burrs  in  stunted   clumps  are 

dead 

And    mullen    leaves    drop    withered 
from  the  stalks. 


74  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray, 

Yet,  ere  the  noon,  as    brass  the  heaven 

turns, 
The  cruel  sun  smites  with  unerring 

aim, 
The  sight  and  touch  of  all  things  blinds 

and  burns, 

And  bare,  hot  hills  seem  shimmering 
into  flame  ! 

On  either  side  the  shoe-deep  dusted  lane 
The  meager  wisps  of  fennel  scorch  to 

wire ; 
Slow  lags  a  team  that  drags  an  empty 

wain, 

And,  creaking  dry,  a  wheel  runs  off  its 
tire. 


Summer  Drought.  75 

No  flock  upon  the  naked  pasture  feeds, 
The  sheep  with  prone  heads  huddle 

near  the  fence; 
A  gust  runs  crackling  through  the  brittle 

weeds, 

And  then  the  heat  still  waxes  more  in 
tense. 

On  outspread  wings  a  hawk,  far  poised 

on  high, 
Quick  swooping  screams,  and  then  is 

heard  no  more: 

The  strident  shrilling  of  a  locust  nigh 
Breaks   forth,  and   dies  in  silence  as 
before. 


76  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

No  transient  cloud  o'erskims  with  flakes 

of  shade 
The  landscape  hazed  in  dizzy  gleams 

of  heat; 
A   dove's  wing   glances  like   a  parried 

blade, 

And  western  walls  the  beams  in  tor 
rents  beat. 

So  burning  low,  and  lower  still  the  sun, 
In  fierce  white  fervor,  sinks  anon  from 

sight, 

And  so  the  dread,  dispairing  day  is  done, 
And  dumbly  broods  again  the  haggard 
night. 


A  June  Morning.  77 

A    JUNE  MORNING. 

A  YE,  sing  I  must,  ecstatic  June, 
•**     Such  morns  the  charms  of  Eden 

bring, 

Untouched  the  bells  of  rapture  swing 
And  all  my  being  breaks  in  tune. 

As  well  restrain  the  roundelay 
Of  yonder  golden-throated  thrush, 
Keep  still  the  wren,  or  seek  to  hush 

The  hymning  waters  on  their  way. 

I  know  the  world  is  tired  of  rhyme, 

But  melody  is  ever  new 

When  heard  amid  the  plashing  dew — 
The  subtle  scent  of  mountain  thyme. 


78  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Ah  me,  I  fear  a  breeze  may  blow, 
Or  cloud  may  cast  a  passing  screen; 
O  winsome  morn  of  bloom  and  green, 

I  would  that  thou  mights  never  go. 


Before  the  Rain.  79 

BEFORE  THE  RAIN. 

\\T HEN   yestermorn  upon  my  early 

route 
To  fetch  the  cows — far  up  the  hollows 

found, 
I  knew  'twould  rain;  a  myriad  frogs  were 

out 

And  all  the  marsh  a  sheet  of  crackling 
sound. 

The  sky  was  naught  but  one  blank  waste 

of  gray, 
The  rank  skunk-cabbage  clumps  were 

dull'd  to  blurs, 
And  on  the  knolls,    a  furlong's  length 

away, 
A  gorge  of  gloom  arose  the  silent  firs. 


80  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Cray. 

Dim  lines  of  moisture  all  the  night  had 

crept 
Out-wid'ning  from  the  edgings  of  low 

sloughs,* 

And  wheresoe'er  a  passing  hoof  had  stept 
There  lay  a  seeping  puddle   of  dark 
ooze. 

The  clumsy  cows  grazed  lagging  as  they 

went, 
The    bell,    trailed    muffled,   struck    a 

dull  refrain, 
And  ere  we  knew,  the  misty  world  was 

blent 

In  one  dark  lowering  raiment  of  gray 
rain. 


*  I  give  this  word  the  western  pronunciation. 


A  Sultry  Night.  81 

A  SULTRY  NIGHT. 

r  I  ^HB  night  swooned  in  a  sultry  lull, 
*       And   as  we   drowsed   around   the 

doors, 

We  heard  away  across  the  moors, 
A  lonesome  dog  bark  faint  and  dull. 

Then  all  was  dumb:  bats  swirled  about, 
Glimpsed  through  the  dusk;  mosquitoes 

bit— 
The  smudge  of  chips  against  them  lit 

Flamed  wanly  once  and  flickered  out. 

Above  the  aspen  tops  entwirled 

The  vapory  moon  hung  half  concealed; 


82  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

The  flame-lit  cloud  at  times  revealed 
The  darker  borders  of  the  world. 

Retiring  then  we  slept  till  morn  — 

It  thundered  deep — the  curtain  stirred, 
The  big  drops  fell,  and  then  we  heard 

The  deluge  breaking  on  the  corn. 


A' 


Indian  Summer.  83 

INDIAN  SUMMER. 
T  last  the  toil  encumbered  days  are 

over, 
And  airs  of  noon  are  mellow   as  the 

morn; 
The  blooms  are  brown  upon  the  seeding 

clover, 

And  brown  the  silks  that  plume  the 
ripening  corn. 

All  sounds  are  hushed  of  reaping  and  of 

mowing; 

The  winds  are  low;  the  waters  lie  un 
curled; 

Nor  thistle-down  nor  gossamer  is  flowing, 
So   lull'd   in    languid    indolence   the 
world. 


84  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

And  mute  the   farms   along  the  purple 

valley, 
The  full  barns   muffled   to  the  beams 

with  sheaves; 
You  hear  no  more  the  noisy  rout  and 

rally 

Amongst    the   tenant-masons    of    the 
eaves. 

A    single    quail,    upstarting    from    the 

stubble, 

Darts  whirring  past  and  quick  alight 
ing  down 

Is  lost,  as  breaks  and  disappears  a  bubble, 
Amid  the  covert  of  the  leafy  brown. 


Indian  Summer.  85 

The  upland   glades  are  flecked  afar  in 

dapples 
By  flocks  of  lambs  a-gauibol  from  the 

fold; 
The  orchards  bend  beneath  the  weight  of 

apples, 

And  groves  are  bright  in  crimson  and 
in  gold. 

But  hark  !  I  hear  the  pheasant's  muffled 
drumming, 

The  water  murmur  from  a  distant  dell; 
A.  drowsy  bee  in  mazy  tangles  humming; 

The  far,  faint  tinkling  tenor  of  a  bell. 


83  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

And  now  from  yonder  beech  trunk  sheer 

and  sterile, 
The  rat-tat- tat  of  the  wood-pecker's 

bill; 

The  sharp  staccato  barking  of  a  squirrel, 
A  dropping  nut,  and  all  again  is  still. 


A  Winter  Morning.  87 

A  WINTER  MORNING. 

STILL  LIFE. 

\/OU  have  seen  a  winter  morning, 

*       The  horizon  dull  and  low, 
When  the  earth  and  all  belonging 

Lay  a  level  waste  of  snow. 
In  the  drear  and  empty  distance 

There  was  naught  of  all  we  knew, 
Save  the  gaunt  and  naked  poplars 

To  arrest  the  wand' ring  view. 
It  was  as  a  stretch  of  desert 

With  no  sign  of  life  thereon — 
The  familiar  hills  and  hollows 

And  the  fields  and  fences  gone; 
Every  road  and  lane  and  by-way, 

Far  and  near  were  blotted  out, 


88          The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Hushed  the  sound  of  bells  and  silent 

Were  the  huntsman's  gun  and  shout; 
E'en  the  axes  of  the  choppers 

Were  unheard  amid  the  wood, 
And  in  drifts  the  horse  of  iron, 

With  his  train  imprisoned  stood. 
Save  but  once  across  the  heavens, 

When  there  flew  a  single  crow, 
Not  a  motion  broke  the  blankness 

Of  the  muffled  world  of  snow. 


An  April  Morning.  89 

AN  APRIL  MORNING. 

T  HAVE  seen  an  April  morning 

When  the  ling' ring  winds  were  lain, 
And  the  day  arose  triumphant 
From  a  sun-lit  gush  of  rain  ! 

When  the  uplands  and  the  lowlands, 
And  the  woodlands  far  and  wide, 

From  the  bonds  of  icy  fetters 
Were  unloosed  and  glorified. 

Wheresoe'er  the  eye  would  wander 
There  was  naught  but  what  was  fair  ; 

There  was  scent  of  balm  and  balsam 
In  the  clear,  refreshing  air. 


90  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray, 

There  were  rivulets  of  silver 

In  the  valleys;  there  were  gleams 

Through  the  soft  empurpled  distance 
From  the  dash  of  mountain  streams. 

I  could  hear  the  new  wine  beading 
In  the  saplings,  and  I  knew 

There  was  jubilee  in  elf-land, 
From  the  horns  the  fairies  blew. 

Every  germ  with  life  was  quick' ning 
Into  green  above  the  mold, 

Every  bud  a  leaf  and  blossom 
Was  beginning  to  unfold. 

There  was  promise  in  the  furrow, 
In  the  hatching  of  the  brood, 


An  April  Morning.  91 

In  the  heifer  growing  clumsy 
From  approaching  motherhood. 

E'en  the  old  were  feeling  younger 
With  a  brighter  hope  in  view, 

As  the  happy-hearted  robin 
Sang  the  song  forever  new. 

Just  as  when  it  broke  in  concert 
With  the  brooklet  as  it  purled 

Through  the  dewy  blooms  of  Eden 
On  the  morning  of  the  world. 


92  The  Green  Leaf  and  theGray. 

AN  AUGUST  AFTERNOON. 

ON   THE   FARM. 

TN  stifling  mows  the  men  became  op- 
*     pressed, 
And   hastened    forth     hard   breathing 

and  o'rcome; 
The  hatching  hen  stood  panting  in  her 

nest, 

The  sick  earth  swooned  in  languor  and 
was  dumb. 

The   dust-dull'd   crickets  lay  in  heedless 

ease 

Of  trampling   hoofs  along  the   beaten 
drives, 


An  August  Afternoon.  93 

And  from  the  fields  the   home-returning 

bees, 

Limp  wing'd  and  tired,  lit  short  before 
their  hives. 

The    drooping     dog     moped     aimlessly 

around; 
Lop'd    down,    got    up,    snapt   at   the 

gnats;  in  pits 
Knee  deep,  the  tethered  horses  stamped 

the  ground, 

And  switched  at  bot-flies  dabbing  yel 
low  nits. 

With  heads  held  prone  the  sheep  in  hud 
dles  stood 

Through  fear  of  gads — the  lambs,  too, 
ceased  to  romp; 


94  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

The  cows  were  wise  to  seek  the  covert 

wood, 

Or   belly    deep    stand   hidden    in    the 
swamp. 

So  dragged  the  day,  but  when  the  dusk 

grew  deep 
The  stagnant  heat  increased ;  we  lit 

no  light, 
But  sat  out-doors,  too  faint  and  sick  for 

sleep ; 

Such  was  the  stupor  of  that  August 
night. 


Beforr  Harvest.  95 

BEFORE  HARVEST. 

my  good  steed,  at  early  morn, 
Along  the  green- walled  lanes  I  ride, 
The  land  is  dark  on  either  side 
With  fields  of  deep,  abundant  corn. 

From  end  to  end  the  plowman  wades 
Breast    high    between   the    mile-long 

rows, 
As  through  the  sea,  behind  him  flows 

A  flashing  wake  of  two-edged  blades. 

And  still  beyond  the  darker  range 
A  fairer  sight  mine  eyes  behold, 
From  lighter  green  to  glimpsing  gold, 

The  heaving  wheat  begins  to  change. 


96  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

And  farther  on,  where  lands  are  low, 
The  timothy  is  all  amist 
Of  airy  bloom  in  amethyst ; 

The  amplest  mows  will  overflow. 


November.  97 


NOVEMBER. 

QUATRAINS. 
I. 

T^HE  longer  days  no  more  appear, 
*       The  shorter  fly  on  quicker  wings, 
Night  cometh,  and  the  poet  sings, 
It  is  the  evening  of  the  year. 

Sings  of  the  sundown,  with  a  sigh 
Of  pity  for  the  tender  call 
Of  yonder  quail — the  last  of  all 

The  scattered  covey  left  to  cry. 


98  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Sings,  as  abroad  the  waning  light, 
The  shadows  intq  darkness  creep, 
As  from  the  uplands  troop  the  sheep 

To  safer  folds  against  the  night. 

Sings,  as  the  cows  come  lowing  near, 
The  sweet  bell  tinkling  down  the  path; 
The  frost  has  nipped  the  aftermath, 

It  is  the  evening  of  the  year. 


II. 

November  is  not  all  a  shrew, 

She  hath  her  noons  of  mellow  airs, 
Her  limpid  mornings;  and  she  wears 

Of  all  the  months  the  deepest  blue. 


November.  99 

So  calmly  deep,  a  leaflet  caught 

Hangs  dead,  but  loosened  round  and 

round, 
Floats  slowly  eddying  to  the  ground, 

As  noiseless  as  unspoken  thought. 

The  halos,  too,  belong  to  her 

Of  glittering  sunsets,  clear  and  keen; 

The  fields  aflowing  far  between 
With  film  of  silvery  gossamer. 

The  gold-touch' d  purpling  hills,  the  hush, 
The  hazel  thicket  and  the  glow 
Of  scarlet  sumac,  deep'ning  so, 

I  think  me  of  the  burning  bush! 


100         The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

III. 

The  farmers  haul  their  grain  to  town 
In  jolting  wagons — driving  slow 
They  talk  of  prices — say  they're  low, 

When  every  tree  has  shaken  down 

Its  mellow  fruit  in  sixty  fold, 
And  every  acre  of  their  fields 
Where  sickles   clicked,  have  proffered 
yields 

The  thrashing  engines  beat  to  gold. 

Yet,  still  they  talk,  as  loads  appear 
So  great,  their  teams  can  hardly  pull; 
To-day  I  counted,  plump  and  full, 

A  thousand  kernels  to  the  ear! 


November.  101 

A  thousand  kernels!  why  not  lift 
A  song  of  trust  and  triumph  then, 
Hast  thou  not  reap'd — my  fellow- men, 

As  thou  hast  sown — in  peace  and  thrift  ? 


IV. 

The  season  hath  her  churlish  moods, 
But  yesterday  the  air  was  bland, 
A  hazy  languor  wrapt  the  land, 

A  purple  raiment  veiled  the  woods. 

But  in  the  night  an  eastern  gale, 
With  freezing  rain,  arose  and  beat 
The  roofs  and  window  panes  with  sleet, 

Till  all  the  world  was  clad  in  mail. — 


102          The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Cray. 

So  glassylike,  at  morn  I  found 

If  one  but  touch' d  a  twig,  its  case 
Of  ice  fell  shelling,  like  a  vase 

Of  fragile  crystal,  to  the  ground. 

There  came  a  snapping  from  the  stalks 
Where  cattle  fed ;  if  there  but  hopped 
A  blue-jay  in  the  pines, there  dropped 

A  shower  of  needles  to  the  walks. 


V. 

The  fields  are  naked,  and  the  wood 
The  burthen  of  the  leaf  has  cast  ; 
The  low-hung  sky  is  but  a  vast 

Expanse  of  bleak  infinitude. 


November.  103 

The  trail  of  smoke  the  engine  made, 
Hard  panting  past,  an  hour  ago, 
Unbroken  still  and  hanging  low 

Along  the  length  of  heavy  grade; — 

The  dullness  brooding  as  a  pall, 
Alike  at  morning  and  at  noon, 
The  wan-like  rim  that  girts  the  moon 

From  night  to  night,  betoken  fall. 

There'll  be  a  snow,  the  farmer  says  ; 
Uptaking  reins,  and  pulling  down 
His  muffled  cap,  drives  out  of  town 

Fast  homeward  by  the  nearest  ways. 


104          The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Cray. 

VI. 

The  dark,  wet  earth  begins  to  freeze, 
That  now  the  fog  so  long  adrip 
From  every  eave  and  pendant  tip, 

Is  clearing  in  the  nipping  breeze. 

The  roads  are  griped,  as  in  a  vise, 
The  hoof-prints  lipping  to  the  brim, 
Like  swollen  pools,  from  rim  to  rim, 

Are  shot  with  javelins  of  ice; — 

That  closing  fast  will  prove  to  be 
Deceptive  pits  that  split  and  break, 
At  every  step  the  horses  take, 

Up-spurting  mire  unto  the  knee. 


November.  105 

The  load  at  best  is  hard  to  pull, 

Say  naught  when  lab' ring  up  the  steep 
The    clogged   wheels    drag    half-axle 
deep! 

Nay,  spare  the  lash,  be  merciful. 


WAR  ECHOES. 


Though  o'er  them  rolls  the  restless  main, 
And  lichens  lace  their  tombs  in  green. 

And  though  we  call  the  roll  in  vain 
Across  the  years  that  crowd  between, 

Immortal  memory,  strong  and  true, 
Will  keep  their  deeds,  and  as  the  sun 

In  golden  lustre  lights  the  blue, 
So  shine  will  they  till  earth  is  done. 


^ 

The  Drums.  109 

THE  DRUMS. 

WITH  pomp  of  plumes  and  banners, 
Ye  may  blow  your  cornets  sweet, 
But  the  airs  that  moved  a  nation 
Were  the  tunes  the  drummers  beat. 

You  remember  how  they  thrilled  us, 

As  we  heard  in  other  years, 
When  Rebellion  smote  the  Union, 

And  she  called  her  volunteers? 

How  '  '  The  Gates  of  Edinboro," 
For  the  feet  a  rhythm  played, 

And  "The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me' 
In  the  heart  a  swelling  made? 


110          The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray 

How  the  smith  with  lifted  hammer 
Heard  a  moment,  caught  the  time 

Struck  his  anvil  into  chorus, 
As  a  ringer  rings  a  chime? 

How  tne  mower  paused  and  pondered — 
He  so  young  and  leal  and  lithe — 

As  he  tapped  a  martial  ditty, 

With  his  whetstone  on  the  scythe? 

And  the  mason  scarce  had  caught  them, 
From  the  keystone  on  the  arch, 

Ere  he  dropped  his  line  and  plummet, 
And  took  up  his  line  of  march. 

Not  a  loyal  ear  but  hearkened, 
Not  a  soul  afraid  to  dare; 


The  Drums.  Ill 

There  were  pale  lads  from  the  counters, 
Brave  hearts  from  everywhere. 

There  were  choppers  from  the  timber, 
Leaving  half  unhewn  the  sill; 

There  were  plowmen  from  the  furrow, 
There  were  grinders  from  the  mill. 

There  were  fathers,  poor  and  needy. 
Brought  the  help  of  their  old  age  ; 

There  were  sweethearts  bade  their  lovers 
Write  their  names  on  glory's  page. 

And  among  them  all  a  widow 
With  her  eldest  and  her  stay, 

How  she  kissed  him  as  she  bless' d  him; 
And  with  wet  eyes  went  her  way? 


112          The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Till  at  length  the  full  battalions 
Stood  aligned  in  shining  blue, 

When  the  ' '  forward  march  ' '  was  vSpoken 
And  the  fifes  struck  up  anew 

With  "The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me  "— 
And  as  when  the  tempest  conies — 

With  rattling  hail  and  thunder-booms 
In  broke  the  doubling  drums. 

Every  footfall  caught  the  rhythm, 

Every  heart  in  valor  beat, 
As  the  column  swept  unbroken 

Like  a  flood-tide  through  the  street, — 

Swept  unbroken  and  beyond  us, 
With  the  drums  still  throbbing  far, 

For  the  harvest  must  be  gathered 
In  the  scarlet  fields  of  war. 


May  Thirtieth.  113 

MAY  THIRTIETH. 
I. 

/"~\  COMRADES,  though  in  thick'ning 

^•^  green, 

Your  lowly  graves  the  grasses  screen  ; 

And  years  are  long  since  last  we  met, 

With  all  the  change  that  years  beget, 
There's  naught  of  life  or  time  between 

To  woo  away  remembrance  yet; 
Nor  naught  that  is,  nor  is  to  be 

Hereafter,  shall  your  valor  stain ; 
For  all  abundant  as  the  sea, 

And  steadfast  as  her  broad  domain, 
So  is  the  Nation's  love  for  thee. 


114         The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

II. 

And  lo !  upon  this  hallowed  day — 
The  sweetest  e'er  to  sorrow  born — 

We  seeui  to  wake  afar  away, 
As  oft  we  woke  at  early  morn 

In  other  years,  again  to  hear 

The  gath'ring  sounds  of  battle  near; 
The  stormy  drum's  redoubling  beat, 

The  bugle's  swift,  defiant  peal; 

The   sharp   commands,    the    hurrying 
feet 

Of  must' ring  squadrons,  as  they  wheel 
And  league  themselves  in  grim  array, 
To  storm  the  valiant  hosts  of  gray ! 

The  word  to  charge,  that  breaks  the  pause 

Of  dread  suspense,  the  wild  huzzahs, 


May  Thirtieth.  115 

As  forth  the  phalanx  springs  and  runs 
Full  front  upon  the  flaming  guns! 
As  when  against  a  headland  steep 
A  billow  strikes  and  strews  the  deep 
With  warring  breakers,  even  so, 
The  column  breaks  against  the  foe, 
When  man  and  man  in  all  the  heat 
And  might  of  fiery  fervor  meet, 

And  hand  to  hand  with  naked  blade 
And  bayonet,  fight  undismayed, 
The  weaker  yielding  only  when 
Have  fallen  half  their  valiant  men; 
Their  cannon  gone,  their  colors  lost, 
They  smite  for  every  inch  they  yield, 
Until,  alas!  at  fearful  cost 
The  stronger  win  the  sanguine  field. 


116          The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

III. 

And  so  a  grateful  people  come, 
With  martial  step  to  fife  and  drum, 

And  cornets  sounding  silver  strains, 

Along  a  thousand  crowded  lanes  ; 
We    come    when     spring     in     fullness 
breathes 

The  wooing  airs  of  summer' s  dawn  ; 
With  plumes  of  fir  and  cedar  wreaths 

Dark  green,  that  smell  like  Lebanon  ; 
We  come  with  roses  and  the  bells 
Of  lilies  and  with  asphodels, 

And  flower-de-luce  in  beauty  blown. 
And  violets  so  frail  and  dear, 
That  each  beseems  a  blossomed  tear 

That  God  had  cherished  for  His  own. 


May  Thirtieth  117 

We  bring  them  fresh  of  tint  and  hue, 
And  all  aglint  with  sun-lit  dew 
And  lay  them  in  their  sweet  perfume 
With  tender  touch  on  every  tomb  ; 
And  in  lagoons  and  water-ways, 
In  lakes  and  harbors  and  in  bays, — 

From  every  fortress  on  the  steep, 
And  stately  ship  where  cannon  frown 
We  let  a  fragrant  garland  down 

For  all  who  slumber  in  the  deep. 

Sleep,  comrade,  sleep,  on  sea  or  land, 
There's  not  a  palm-full  of  your  clay, 
So  hidden,  but  a  blossomed  spray 

Is  drop't  by  some  remembering  hand. 

For  thee  the  healing  rains  of  spring 
Fall  earlier  that  the  grass  may  grow  ; 


118          The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

The  flowers  in  daintier  fullness  blow, 
The  robin  redbreasts  sweeter  sing. 

For  thee  we  lift  the  granite  high, 
The  graven  urns  of  marble  set ; 
Their  silver  lutes  the  poets  fret 

To  dulcet  strains  that  never  die, 

Sleep,  comrade,  sleep,  there  lurk  about 
No  ambush 'd  foe  to  fear  or  shun, 
The  Blue  and  Gray  are  one-and-one, 

And  all  the  fires  of  camt>  are  out, 

Sleep,  comrade,  sleep,  nor  dream  again 
The  vague  uneasy  dreams  of  life, 
Sleep  all  forgetful  of  the  strife 

The  sleep  that  lulls  away  your  pain. 


May  Thirtieth.  119 

Sleep,  comrade,  sleep  and  dream  of  bliss, 
The  night  of  death  is  calm  and  deep, 
The  war  is  over,  sleep  the  sleep 

That  wakes  no  more  to  weariness. 

Sleep,   comrade,  sleep  in   earth's   green 

breast, 

There's  none  to  trouble,  fear  no  ill, 
The  night  of  death  is  sweet  and  still, 

Sleep  on  in  the  eternal  rest. 


120         The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

THE  HALT. 

r  I  THE  day  was  lost,  and  we  were  sent 
•*•       In    haste    to   guard   the   baggage 

train, 
And  all  the  night  through  gloom  and 

rain 
Across  a  land  of  ruin  went. 

But  halting  once,  and  only  then 
We  turned  aside  to  let  the  corps 
Of  ambulances  pass  before, 

That  hauled  a  thousand  wounded  men  ! 

And  leaning,  drowsy  and  oppressed, 
Upon  my  gun  I  wondered  where 
The  comrade  was  I  helped  to  bear, 

Slow  rearward,  wounded  in  the  breast. 


The  Halt.  121 

When  lo  !  I  heard  a  fainting  cry — 

As    wheels    drew    near  and    stopped 

aside : 
' '  The  man  in  here  with  me  has  died, 

Oh,  lift  him  out,  or  I  shall  die  !  " 

"All  right,"  the  one-armed  driver  said, 
"The  horse  can  hardly  pull  the  load, 
We  leave  them  all  along  the  road, 

It  does  no  good  to  haul  the  dead  !  ' ' 

And  so  we  turned  by  lantern  light 
And  laid  him  in  a  gloom  of  pines, 
When  came  an  order  down  the  lines, 

"  Push  on,  and  halt  no  more  to-night  !  " 


122         The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 
FRANKLIN,  TENN. 

NOVEMBER  30,    1864. 

TTARD    pressed,    we   fell   back   upon 

*•  *    Franklin,  called  a  halt 

And  broke  ground  in  hot  haste,  to  with 
stand  the  assault 

That  we  knew  would  be  swift  as  a  whirl 
wind,  and  fought 

Without  quarter. 

Howe'er,  we  were  vet'rans, 

and  wrought 
As  for  life;  fences  were  leveled,  bridges 

seized,  aids 

Sent  with  sharp  orders,  trains  hurried 
forward,  brigades 


Franklin,  Tenn.  123 

Double-quick' d   to  the    trenches  where 
batteries  were  set 

With  the  guns  loaded  plumb  to  the  muz 
zles,  and  yet, 

Not  a  moment  too  soon  ! 

For  the  foe  had  been  massed 

And  were  dark'ning  the  hills,    and  al 
though  we  had  passed 

Through  a  hundred  encounters,  a  hush 
as  profound 

As  the  silence  of  death  brooded  ominous 
ly  'round, 

As  we  stood  in  amaze  and  beheld  the 
dark  sweep 

Of  battalions,  interleagued  to  battalions 
—  six  deep — 


124          The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Aye,    the     whole    rebel   army,    pouring 

forth  from  the  wood, 
Forty  thousand,   in   battle   array  under 

Hood, 

Forty  thousand,  a  gray   and  grim  steel- 
fronted  host 
Sweeping  forward,  as  dark  waters  sweep 

to  the  coast 
Ere  dashed  into  breakers,  until  they,  with 

a  shout, 
Like  the  noise  of  the  sea  in  its  fury,  broke 

out 

And  leaped  forward  ! 
And  yet,   there  we  stood  helpless,   nor 

dared  fire  a  shot : 
Two  brigades  by  a  blunder  misplaced  had 

been  caught 


Franklin,  Tenn.  125 

Right  between  the  two  fronts,  nor  were 
cleared  from  the  way 

Till  hundreds  fell  captive,  and  the  onset- 
ting  fray 

Struck  the  works  by  the  pike  and  poured 
through,  when  Opedyck 

Caught  a  glance  of  the  route,  and  flash 
ing  his  blade 

From  the  scabbard,  called  out  to  as  game 
a  brigade 

As  ever  faced  bullets,  "Up  and  at  them, 
my  men  !  " 

When  the  lightnings  leaped  forih,  and  it 
thundered,  and  then 

To  the  bayonets  bent,  right  forward  we 
broke 


126         The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Through  the  hail-whistling  flame  of  their 
volleys  and  smoke, 

Till  we  met  with  a  clash  in  a  hand-to- 
hand  fight, 

Beat  them  back  foot  by  foot,  through  the 
breach,  yet  in  spite 

Of  the  might  of  our  valor,  and  the  roar 
and  the  rack 

Of  that  tempest  of  death,  they  wheeled 
round  in  their  track — 

All  afire  from  our  cannon, — and  again 
and  again 

Re-enforced  with  dark  masses  of  oncom 
ing  men 

Stormed  the  line  of  our  works. 


Franklin,  Tcnn.  127 

Why  repeat  ?  You  have  read  of  the  deeds 

of  that  day 
In  the  records  of  valor;  how  we  held  them 

at  bay, 

As  the  sea-walls  the  breakers ;    of  how 

they  were  led 
Till  the  sweeps  of  their  charges    were 

strewn  with  the  dead; 
Of  the  fronting  platoons  that  were  mown 

from  their  feet, 
Of  the  gaps   that  were  filled   with  no 

thought  of  retreat 
Until  corps  after  corps  were  berefit  of  the 

pride 

Of  their  heroes :   of  how  they  were  shot 
from  astride 


128         The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

The    embankments,    cut   down    in   the 

breach,  in  their  raids 
On  the  colors,  'round  the  guns,  till  their 

scattered  brigades 
Could  be  rallied  no  longer,  and  stricken 

and  sore, 
With  their  captains  unhorsed  and  their 

swiftest  no  more, 
Their  banners  in  tatters,  their  standards 

in  two, 
Aye,  whipped  but  not  conquered,  at  last 

they  withdrew, 
And  the  slain  of  the  Gray  and  the  slain 

of  the  Blue, 
Were  as  one  as  they  lay  under  night's 

heavy  pall 
With  the  flag  of  the  Union  afloat  over  all. 


The  Fond  Heart's  Benediction.         129 
THE  FOND  HEART'S  BENEDICTION. 

DECORATION  DAY. 

A  GAIN  we  file  into  the  camp 
**     Wherein  they  bivouacked  last 
And  as  we  call  the  roll  they  file 
In  solemn  silence  past. 

We  come  with  songs  in  minor  keys, 

We  come  with  eye-lids  wet, 
We  come  with  lilies  of  the  vale 

We  bring  the  violet; 

We  come  with  wreaths  of  Sharon's  rose, 

With  fragrant  heliotrope; 
We  come  with  steadfast,  loyal  hearts, 

With  golden-anchored  hope; 


130         The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

We  come  with  snow-flakes  in  our  beards, 

With  winter  in  our  hair, 
Yet  still  the  flag  in  hallowed  trust 

With  valiant  hands  we  bear. 

And  when  we're  gone  our  sons  and  theirs, 

Heroic,  strong  and  proud, 
Will  in  the  vanguard  step 

And  lift  it  flowing  to  the  cloud. 

We  come  with  those  we  left  as  babes — 

Fair  women  now  are  they — 
Who  wove  the  dewy  garlands  lain 

Upon  37our  graves  to-day. 

We  come  with  fathers,  hoar  and  frail, 
With  mothers,  bent  and  low, 

And  little  children  in  whose  hands 
The  blue-bells  overflow. 


The  Fond  Heart's  Benediction.         131 

Aye,  old  and  young,  in  sun  and  shade, 

From  sea  to  sea  we  come; 
The  plow  stands  idle  in  the  field, 

The  doors  are  shut  at  home. 

We  come  from  hamlets  and  from  towns, 

In  hosts  along  the  lanes; 
From  factories  in  great  cities 

Where  a  Sabbath's  stillness  reigns. 

We  come  in  summer's  rosy  dawn, 
The  green  woods  dark'ning  near, 

When   orchards   drop   their  bloom   and 

round 
The  young  fruit  into  sphere. 

We  come  when  bees  are  on  the  wing, 
In  airy  halcyon  hours; 


132          The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

We  come  with  faith,  and  love  as  sweet 
And  tender  as  the  flowers; 

When  oriole  and  bobolink 
From  every  mound  and  tree, 

And  robin-redbreast  flute  their  notes 
In  dulcet  melody. 

We  come  rejoicing  and  in  tears, 

In  fondness  and  in  trust, 
We  kneel  above  their  hallowed  mounds 

And  kiss  the  very  dust. 

And  so  we  give  to  them  the  best 
We  have  in  heart  and  words, 

And  leave  them  sleeping  sweetly 
With  the  blossoms  and  the  birds. 


ON  OCCASION. 


A  Golden   Wedding.  135 

A  GOLDEN  WEDDING. 

TO-NIGHT  we  turn  and  feign  would 
call 

To  mind  the  smiles  and  tears 
That   flecked  with   dappled    light    and 

shade 

A  life  of  fifty  years — 
A  wedded  life  of  willing  hands 

That  drudged  from  sun  to  sun, 
And  each  succeeding  morn  anew 
Took  up  the  work  undone. 

'Twas  plow  and  plant  and  gather  in, 

Again  to  plow  and  sow; 
The  threaded  shuttle  through  the  loom 

Went  ever  to  and  fro  ; 


136          The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

It  was  a  constant  treadmill  tramp — 

Around  and  still  around; 
And  though  the  mill  forever  went, 

The  grist  was  never  ground. 

But  this  were  well,  for,  as  the  times 

And  seasons  kept  their  speed, 
Came  restless  little  feet  to  shoe, 

And  little  mouths  to  feed — 
Mouths  craving  bread,  and  busy  hands 

In  every  mischief  thrust; 
They  made  the  usual  pies  of  mud 

And  pattered  in  the  dust. 

To  fall  and  stub  the  bootless  toes 

Was  ever  boyhood's  fate, 
And  fingers  just  as  sure  were  pinched 

While  swinging  on  the  gate; 


A  Golden   Wedding.  137 

The  smoothly  polished  cellar-door 

Was  proof  beyond  a  doubt 
Of  how  the  pants  were  worn  in  holes 

Below  the  roundabout. 

Yet  there  was  mother,  deft  and  quick 

To  knit  and  darn  and  mend; 
She  soothed  the  ache  and  bound  the 
bruise — 

Her  love  was  without  end. 
With  constant  care  her  faithful  eye 

Was  never  turned  away 
From  watching  o'er  the  truant  feet 

So  prone  to  run  astray. 


The  first  one  born  was  little  Jim — 
A  most  a  precious  chick; 


138          The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

The  classic  precinct  of  his  birth 
Was  down  on  "Shaver's  Crick." 

At  times  across  his  back  and  legs — 
To  cure  the  itch  of  sin — 

Was  lain  the  rod's  corrective  salt — 
They  must  have  rubbed  it  in! 

But  as  he  grew  he  often  caught 

A  glimpse  of  sunny  gleams, 
And  heard  the  pulsing  silver  sounds 

Within  the  land  of  dreams; 
And  in  the  night,  when  all  was  still, 

Lay  musing  late  and  long, 
Until  he  caught  the  magic  spell 

And  wove  them  into  song. 

The  next  on  deck  was  wayward  Bob, 
The  drollest  of  the  crew. 


A  Golden  Wedding.  139 

How  often!  oh,  how  often 

Has  he  pinched  us  black  and  blue! 
He  went  in  manhood  to  the  war, 

And  fought  as  he  had  pinched, 
And  when  a  bullet  pierced  his  thigh 

He  swore  but  never  flinched. 

And  then  poor  John  in  order  came, 

Kindhearted,  dashing,  free; 
I  never  knew  of  one  so  full 

Of  sanguine  hope  as  he — 
A  hope  that  turned  aside  and  smiled 

At  grim  misfortune's  frown, 
Until,  alas!  in  dark  eclipse 

His  noon-day  sun  went  down. 

And  there  was  David,  who,  when  grown, 
In  manly  beauty  stood — 


140         The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

A  type  of  rounded  strength,  as  stands 

A  young  oak  in  the  wood. 
His  heart  was  glad,  and  when  the  drums 

Were  beating  far  and  wide, 
He  marched — a  soldier — to  the  front 

And,  fighting,  fell  and  died. 

The  next  was  Edwin,  who  from  birth 

Walked  in  his  Maker's  ways, 
And  kept  in  simple,  faithful  trust 

His  precepts  all  his  days; 
And  when  at  length  a  dread  disease 

Its  fatal  course  began, 
He  met  it — dying  as  he  lived — 

At  peace  with  God  and  man. 

Then  Bell  in  turn — a  laughing  lass — 
One  summer's  day  was  born- 


A  Golden   Wedding.  141 

The  light  that  lit  her  nature  seemed 

A  reflex  of  the  morn. 
Consumption!  dread  destroyer! 

Thou  hast  claimed  her  for  thine  own. 
White  souls  there  are;  a  whiter  one 

Than  hers  I've  never  known. 

Then  on  one  snowy  New  Year's  eve 

In  came  a  gift  from  heaven; 
'Twas  little,  brown-eyed  Sara-Jane, 

The  best  of  all  the  seven. 
A  faithful  daughter  she  has  been, 

A  sister  true  and  sweet; 
Her  feet  were  swift  to  run,  her  heart 

In  loyal  kindness  beat. 

In  mother's  stead  she  sewed  and  baked, 
And  scoured  and  cleansed  the  cup; 


142  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

In  sickness  bathed  the  fevered  brow 

The  faint  head  lifted  up. 
And  still  she's  here  to-night  to  share 

The  burthens  yet  unborne — 
The  strength  and  stay  of  these  old  forms 

So  weary  and  outworn. 

So  weary  with  the  dizzy  whirl 

The  turmoil  and  the  strife, 
The  aches,  the  longings  and  the  cares 

Of  this  uneasy  life; 
So  weary  trudging  up  the  hill, 

So  weary  plodding  down, 
So  broken  underneath  the  cross. 

So  anxious  for  the  crown. 

Ah,  well!  we  know  the  crown's  in  store; 
The  rugged  path  you  trod. 


A  Golden   Wedding.  143 

And,  oh!  it  must  be  beautiful — 

The  city  of  our  God. 
Has  life  not  sweets  to  lure  you  still  ? 

The  loved  ones  power  to  bless  ? 
Long  as  we  may  for  heavenly  halls, 

We  love  not  earth  the  less. 

Oh,   then,  dear  heaven  !    hold  not  thy 
charms, 

And  let  the  sun  benign 
In  Indian  summer  loveliness 

Upon  them  softly  shine; 
Stay  winter's  coming,  and  when  come 

Keep  back  the  fall  of  snow. 
We'll  love  and   bless  them  while  they 
stay, 

And  bless  them  when  they  go. 


144  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 


AN   EASY   CHAIR. 

FOR   DR.    A.    W.    ARMSTRONG. 
I. 


,  take  this  easy  chair; 
Soft  its  cushion  as  a  fleece; 
For  an  hour  forget  thy  care, 

For  an  hour  thy  labor  cease. 
L,et  the  sun  of  heaven  shine 
Still  in  love  on  thee  and  thine, 
Staying  long  his  going  down, 
Is  the  fond  and  fervent  prayer 
Of  every  heart  that  beats  in  town. 


An  Easy  Chair.  146 

II. 

Thou  art  worthy,  and  hast  been 
To  thy  stricken  fellow-men 
Faithful  all  thy  lengthened  years — 
Faithful  to  them  in  their  tears 
And  unto  the  bed  of  pain 
Thou  wert  never  called  in  vain; 

Never  was  the  day  too  warm, 
Nor  the  night  too  dark  with  rain, 

Nor  too  wild  the  winter's  storm, 
Nor  too  deep  the  drifted  snow, 
But  that  thou  didst  willing  go; 
Never  patient  yet  so  poor 
But  was  welcome  at  thy  door. 

III. 

Often  have  you  been  the  stay 
Of  our  dear  ones  as  they  lay 


146          The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Struggling  in  the  mortal  throes — 
Which  alone  a  mother  knows — 

In  the  trying  hour  of  birth; 
Heard  the  first  awak'ning  cry 

Of  our  children,  new  to  earth. 
You  have  seen  them  bright  of  eye, 
Seen  them  at  their  nimble  play, 
Seen  them  grow  and  go  their  way, 

Seen  them  fade  and  droop  and  die; 
Cheered  us  all  when  faint  and  low; 
Laid  your  hand  on  wrist  and  brow; 
Timed  the  life-tide's  ebb  and  flow, 
Cooled  the  fever  of  the  brain 
With  draughts  of  healing,  as  the  rain, 
Show' ring,  wooes  the  arid  plain 
Back  to  living  green  again. 


An  Easy  Chair.  147 

IV. 

Eighty  years  are  thine,  and,  though 
White  thy  head  is  as  the  snow, 

And  the  days  since  first  we  met 
Lengthened  to  the  long  ago, 

Thou  art  true  to  duty  yet, 
Just  as  if  you  were  not  old; — 
True  to  Him  who  guides  the  way 
And  shall  call  thee  to  the  fold 
Kre  long  when  thy  work  is  done 
Peaceful  at  the  set  of  sun. 

V. 

Howsoe'er,  sit  down  and  rest; 

Soft  the  chair  is  as  a  fleece; 

Set  thee  down  and  rest  in  peace. 
Golden  is  the  languid  west; 


148  The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Indian  summer  round  thee  shine, 
Health  and  wealth  to  thee  and  thine. 
Sit  thee  down  and  rest  in  ease; 

Let  thy  dreams  be  dreams  of  bliss; 
Little  children  climb  thy  knees, 

Archly  giving  kiss  for  kiss. 
Doctor,  thou  art  truly  blessed! 
Take  the  chair,  sit  down  and  rest. 


Jo  Leeper.  149 


JO    LEEPER. 

years  ago,  or  nigh, 
Barefoot  boys  were  Jo  and  I. 
I  a  child  and  he  a  child, 
Here,  when  all  the  grove  was  wild; 
Played  together  every  day — 
In  the  straw  rick,  in  the  hay; 
Hunted  birds'  eggs,  went  to  school, 
And  a-swimming  in  the  cool, 
Deep,  delicious  willow  pool, — 
Now  dried  up,  with  just  the  stumps 
To  show  where  grew  the  willow  clumps. 

There's  change!     The  creek  sinks  in  its 

bed; 
I  am  tired  and  Jo  is  dead. 


150          The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

He  so  lithe  and  fleet  and  strong, 
Built,  we  thought,  for  living  long. 
Better  boy  was  never  known, 
Nor  a  better  man  when  grown; 
Kindly-hearted,  boy-like  still, 
Thought  no  evil,  spake  no  ill, 
Peaceable — he  knew  no  strife, 
Even-tempered  all  his  life. 
Loved  to  romp  and  laugh  and  joke, 
Uncomplaining  took  the  yoke 
When  others  fainted.     Noble  heart! 
Well  he  filled  a  brother's  part. 
I^ay  him  gently  down  to  rest; 
He  deserves  it;  God  knows  best. 


From  the  Album.  151 


FROM   THE   ALBUM 


OF  MISS   INA 

)\  /I  Y  friend!   your  life  is  in  the  May, 
1  V  1  wjne  of  spring  is  in  your 


veins; 

And  like  this  virgin  page,  I  pray, 
It  e'er  may  be  as  free  from  stains. 

Ah,  me!  but  May  is  fleet  of  wing; 

She  is  too  sweet  to  go  so  soon,— 
We  hardly  hear  the  robins  sing 

Before  she  hies  away  to  June. 

Though  June  is  dear,  we  sigh  withal 
Amid  her  lavish  sweets  to  know 

That  summer  nimbly  seeks  the  fall; 
Then  comes  the  winter  with  its  snow. 


152          The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

Still,  when  the  winter  of  your  years 
Shall    come,    'twill    sweeter    be    than 
spring; 

'Tis  peaceful  age  alone  that  hears 
From  earth  the  bells  of  heaven  ring. 


From  the  Album.  153 

FROM   THE   ALBUM 

OF   MISS   LIBBIE   HAMSHIRE. 

Y  dear  young  friend!    your  life  is 


M 

A  T  *     sweet, 


Your  virtue  spotless  as  the  snow; 
Your  hands  are  deft,  and  swift  your  feet; 
I  wish  that  God  would  keep  you  so. 

Howe'er,  we  may  not  bind  the  years, 
Nor  from  our  course  the  shadows  bar, 

But  Age  forgets  his  pains  and  tears 
When  hope  becomes  the  guiding  star. 

And  as  it  shown  in  times  of  old, 

And  led  the  shepherds  glad  and  wise, 

For  you  it  streams  a  rain  of  gold 
Across  the  hills  of  Paradise. 


154         The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

And — trust  me,  friend — I  wish  that  you 
With  willing  feet  may  hither  tend, 

And  keep  as  they  the  star  in  view 
Till  Jesus  meets  you  at  the  end. 


Josie.  155 


JOSIE. 

A  H,  Josie!    We're  weary  with  sighing 
**      O'er  the  thought  that  you'll  come 

nevermore, 
But  rejoice  that  the  sweetness  of  dying 

Was  a  balm  for  the  suff'ring  you  bore. 
For  we  knew  by  the  saintly  behavior, 
When   approaching    the   dark  river's 

strand, 
And  in  the  light  in  your  face,  that  the 

Saviour 
Was  holding  your  poor  little  hand. 

It  is  rapture  to  know  you're  together, 
That  you'll  never  grow  weary  again 


156         The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

In  the  airs  of  that  beautiful  weather 
That  woo  away  sickness  and  pain. 

Yet,  withal,  it  is  human  to  weep  you, 
And  to  see  you,  oh,  what  would  we 
give! 

But,  my  dear  little  girl,  we  will  keep  you 
In  memory  as  long  as  we  live. 


Tossings.  157 


TOSSINGS. 


OT   a   wink   all   night.      Toss?      I 


N 

should  say  so! 


Turned     fifty    times,    more    or    less; 

counted  sheep — 
A   great   flock   disappearing,  leap  by 

leap, 
Over  a  fence  into  dreamland;    watch 'd 

th'  flow 

Of  dim  waters;  thought  myself  in  a  show 
Riding    the    merry-go-round    with    a 

sweep 
And  swirl  that  made  me  dizzy;  still  no 

sleep. 
Then  I  fell  to  thinking  whether  or  no 


158         The  Green  Leaf  and  the  Gray. 

There  were  crumbs  in  the  bed,  laughed, 

blamed  the  seams 
In  the  sheets;  got  up  and  turned  them, 

unfast 
The  blinds;  again  lay  down,  longing 

for  dreams 
And  sweet  slumber  that  came  not.  till 

at  last, 

Just  as  across  the  hills  the  daybreak  crept 
And  the  redbreasts  sang  of  morning,  I 

slept. 


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